The Right of a Fellow Wulfric
by kodomo wa oishii
Summary: Albus Dumbledore has some bones in his closet and one Harry Potter is going to bring them to light. he has a few questions, and they will be answered. why was he there that night? why did he take him in? why does harry hear humming when close to Dement's? ON HOLD REWRITES
1. Chapter 1

AN: normal disclaimer so yeah. Not being racist, Islamic green is a type of green according to Wikipedia.

TITLE: The Right of a Fellow Wulfric

PARINGS: undecided, will leave it up to you

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><p>Justice?—You get justice in the next world, in this world you have the law. Or in his case, you have luck. Islamic green eyes never strayed from the burly hands in front of him and-Damn it! He ducked once again, curling his body onto himself, and dropping into a roll between the thick legs of his uncle. If there was justice, his family would have upped and died already. And if the law was as full proof as the government made it out to be, his family would have been locked away a long time ago. Personally, he liked justice better than the law. More spiteful that way.<p>

"Boy! Get your freakishness over here!" like he gave a shit about what Uncle Vernon wanted, he was more concerned about getting to his cupboard then out of the damn prison he was 'lucky' enough to call home. He felt something wrap around his foot, the thick warm flesh clamped around his ankle and pulled, making him fall onto his stomach. His body smacked the floor with a crack, no doubt one of his ribs was at least fractured. He looked behind himself and sure enough his baby whale of a cousin Dudley had his thick meaty hand wrapped completely around his ankle.

"Obese whale of a son of a bitch! Your what? Seven and already weighing 100 pounds?" he wouldn't live through the night if he didn't get out of here and if he was going down, he was going down telling the truth. Even if he only roughly understood the words he just said. It meant fat son of an evil person right? Oh well.

"Why you lying piece of shit! Get back here!" now his aunt was in on it, trying to hit him with a frying pan while Dudley just sat and cried, telling his dad to "Get him! He's mean! Get the wor-worthwess freak!" even as Harry was running for his life he couldn't believe the stupidity of his own blood.

Throwing himself into the already open cupboard, he grabbed his two books and picture, and feinted right at his uncle who stood a few feet away from his cupboard. Watching the fat man dive at air, he rushed towards the door, his aunt hot on his heels.

Swinging and thrusting the pan around like a dancing partner, the menacing thing got closer to the back of his head. Fear and adrenaline and something else, boosted his running, propelling himself out the door, he landed on his arse at the edge of the driveway. Not questioning why, he turned around to see a purple-faced Vernon pushing past and equally mad Petunia to get him. Not hesitating, he turned around and ran down the sidewalk, getting as far away from the white number four-privet drive.

Fatigue slowed down his racing feet, bringing it to a jog. The pumping of his heart was a physical pressure in his head, furiously beating. He didn't have to check his pulse, he knew it was perfectly in tune with the throbbing. He looked back once more to see if he was in the clear. When the farthest house he could make out was 18-privet drive, number four nowhere in sight, the tension in his shoulders dropped.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he stopped and hunched over, hands covering his kneecaps, he gasped in air. His legs wiggled and trembled, tingly all over until he wasn't standing anymore, but sitting on the hard cool pavement. He didn't even register the pain from his backside, the reality of what he just did sunk in, and he was laughing, high and low, hurt crazy laughs to joy filled sobs, tears fell down his face, and his laughs stopped being joy filled sobs but sorrow filled sobs, for everything had just truly sunk in, the reality of what his family was, what they thought of him.

He didn't remember how long he sat there cold and alone, wallowing in self-pity, moaning in despair, wanting a true family or at least a friend. Maybe that's why when he was no longer cold but in strong thin arms, he allowed himself to be comforted, why he let this one stranger to see how lonely he truly was.

He felt the person who held him to their chest hum, the soft tune overpowered by his sobs. But the rhythmic beat of the man's heart calmed him and soon he was only hic-upping every few moments. Pressing the back of his hands into his eyes and trying to rub the tears out, he got off the man's lap and stood before the crouching man.

"Sorry. Probably didn't want to see a boy cry." His voice was hoarse from crying and slow from lack of sleep.

"No problem my dear boy, crying is said to help one move on. Not to mention your only maybe seven years old? I know quite a few eleven year olds that still cry."

He looked up into twinkling blue eyes. He felt calmer and almost safe, but a few words had just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Don't call me boy. Just don't. I hate that name. and eleven year olds don't cry, or if they do they don't for the same reason I am."

The twinkling eyes hardened for a moment, he got lost in those eyes, it felt like the man could read his mind, like he knew and was trying to control his reaction to what he now knew.

"I can assure you that eleven year olds probably cry for a lesser reason then you." He just gave a look. "Very well, then, what is your name?" giving a calculating look, as much as a seven year old could give, he answered the question.

"My name's Harry."

The blue eyes pierced his once again.

"Just Harry? What about your last name?" the man inquired softly.

"Look, it's none of your business but I don't know okay? I was never told. They said it was the name of the man who stole her "Ungrateful bitch of a sister. They died in a car crash, they were both drunk alcoholics. You best remember that boy." He said in a perfect high pitch nasal voice, a dead ringer for Aunt Petunia's horse like whine.

The man flat out frowned now, his auburn brows knitting together, wrinkles forming in the oddest places.

"Harry, that is a complete lie. I knew your parents they were very close to me, would you like to come with me, live with me so you'll never have to see those people again?"

He knew not to trust strangers, he honestly did, heck, he was naturally suspicious of people who looked at him when he was kicked out of that place. He was about to say a firm no and run away from the man, but he looked into the honest eyes, and he swore the twinkle got brighter and the notion of living with the man seemed so perfect, so nice, that he couldn't say no. he didn't want to say no when he knew he had to.

For seven years he had been alone. That itself made him a bit cynical and insecure. He was not going in to this without something to guarantee his safety. He learned from the Dursley's about not trusting people.

"Fine. If you tell me my last name and swear not to mistreat me in anyway I see as mistreatment. Deal?" he remembered his own books and the books the people in suits read at the library and talking about a contract. "Wait." He pulled out one of his books and flipped to the back where there usually was blank sheets of paper. Ripping one out, he felt around for the small pencil he always kept in his pocket. Fishing it out, he handed it to the man.

"I want a contract. My exact words and your signature. If it's fake I'll eventually find out. It may not be legal, but the authorities probably will accept it. So write and sign and let me look over it." He was bluffing, he himself didn't put stock into the authorities but that piece of paper would make him feel safer and that was all that mattered to him.

The man placed the paper on the cement and started to write. Soon he had the paper back and after looking it over, everything was right except for the name. who had so many names anyway?

"This cannot be your name." he glared at the man.

"Oh, but it is. Look, I can prove it." And suddenly Harry was looking at a driver's license, proclaiming the man to be Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore. The same entails on the contract matching up to the license.

"I guess your not lying, so take me away. After you tell me my last name." He heaved a sigh and got himself ready for disappointment.

" Your last name is Potter. Did you know you look like you're about to be hanged at the gallows?"

"How am I suppose to know?" he was tired and just wanted to go to bed. So what if he was cranky, he had a long day.

Albus just sighed and pulled out a thin dented metal washer.

"How is that supposed to get us anywhere?" Harry asked, in an disbelieving, pessimistic tone.

"Why it's magic! Here, Harry put to fingers on; yes that's it, a little pressure please lad. Good. Now, brace yourself! CHOCOLATE FROGS."

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><p>In the late summer of that year, right in front of number 18 privet drive, a man and a boy disappeared to who knows where. If you ask the Dursley's what happened to their nephew, you will get a sickly sweet smile and your question thrown back at your face. "What nephew?"<p>

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><p>It was on that July night that Harry Potter closed his eyes and disappeared. When he opened them again, the sight was of a Scottish castle that looked over a cliff and a pitch black lake.<p>

His life was never the same.

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><p>REVIEW. COMON PEOPLE. Pretty please.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Happy new year! sorry it took so long, my stuff was taken away and i was busy. anyway review. also i was writing at least five other chaps/stories but i had to delete them so it will take a while, review and motivate me please. again, happy new year everyone! (also any preferences for pairings?)

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><p>The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. Harry remembered reading that line out of a book he picked up once when he snuck out to the library last year. He couldn't help but hold those words true as he walked through the castle, passing paintings of snoring people, suits of armor lining the hallways. He looked curiously at a tapestry hanging on the wall. It was beautiful, soft green and striking silver, the curves of the snake beautifully done. His only thoughts were about his librarian friend Cecilio who would have no doubt loved it. He just turned his head to the other wall, his glance taking in the cluttered wall full of paintings and tapestries of snakes, lions, ravens and badgers. It was beautiful and the imposing castle would strike most but Harry quickly became bored of the repeating scenery down every hall.<p>

"Hold on tight and watch for trick steps, the castle's playful." He just raised an eyebrow at the stairs they were heading to, already used to the strange things happening in his life; he had years to get used to his own strange existence.

Climbing up the stairs, he shoved his other hand onto the banister when the stairs started to swing around like a tilt a whirl.

"Playful? Yeah, sure." He shut his eyes tightly trying to keep his stomach under control. The stairs stopped all to soon, making his head hurt with the sudden stop. the pounding in his head intensified when Albus started to talk once more.

"Come along now before the door leaves us." He glared at Albus' back and trudged up the stairs after him. His footsteps echoed throughout the castle and a few of the portrait's eyes fluttered, a few already coherent enough to take a glance at the boy and dismiss the child, going back to sleep. Once he caught up to Albus, he looked at the gold and red shield on the wooden door, the handle a lion's head.

"Where are we?" he asked as Albus pushed open the door, revealing a tasteful living room, surprising for the odd man.

"We are in my rooms, Harry welcome to the Phoenix nest." He ignored the room, for now, and turned to the odd man.

"You named your rooms? Why?" Albus just sighed and told him he would explain another day.

"Go look around, I have to floo someone." Harry gave him a strange look, and turned around ready to explore all the while wondering if flooing was like calling someone on the telephone.

Unlike with the hallways, Harry found Albus' quarters very fascinating, even if it looked boring to most children his age. He eagerly studied his surroundings.

The walls were tall and made mostly of cherry wood, the occasional brick wall here or there. The couch was a mud brown leather with oak legs, the coffee table matching the legs. On either side of the couch was two love seats, both a dark red and facing each other. A fireplace was in front of the furniture, and above was a large painting showing nothing but black, like a dead television screen. He walked around, careful of the gold lamps next to the chairs. Long stain glass windows were took up the side wall, the back wall was covered with bookcases full of books and odd trinkets, including an orb that hummed happily, misty letters inside spelling 'safe'. He was curious, but he soon dismissed it when he heard stone grinding over his shoulder. Looking, he saw a winding staircase moving all by itself. Curious, he walked towards the staircase, moving up; he reached the top, and a hallway full of rooms. Walking down the carpeted path, he opened the doors, seeing bedrooms and supply closets and multiple studies.

He was about to close the door on the room full of robes and other accessories when he found a heavy book lying on an ottoman. Remembering the bookcases down stairs, he picked up the heavy book wanting to put it back where it belonged, hating unorganized spaces. Shifting his hold on the leather bound book, he dropped it, making a giant thump. Scared he would get in trouble, he picked up the two pictures that fell out of the album, not giving a glance to them, he shoved them into his pockets thinking he could sneak back to put them in the album. Leaving the book in the room, he ran out, slowing down to make it look like he did nothing wrong just like Miro showed him. He never noticed the chair in the room or the bottles of alcohol ranging from scotch to tequila to firewhisky, all half gone. Nor did he notice the bird who looked on as the boy rushed off, finally happy that his old friend could have the boy with him, not having to suffer anymore wondering if he was being taken care of. But the feeling was bittersweet, knowing the secrets that were still hidden, were never to face the light of day.

Harry walked down the stairs leisurely, trying to playoff his guilt. When he was finally down, Albus came through another Hallway Harry didn't explore yet.

"Ah, Harry, there you are. Now my child, I do not look like this, so please wait for a minute while I take off the glamour and then I must speak to you." He nodded and watched as the relatively young looking thirty year-old face washed away to show a man with wrinkles, a long white beard in place of his once smooth strong jaw, his once straight dark auburn hair, still long, but now slightly curly and white. The clothes changed into long robes, a bright periwinkle with gold flying balls on them. His eyes didn't change; just more wrinkles surrounded them.

He waited, letting the changes sink in, finding it all not that strange once he let his brain work it out. Albus had weird mannerisms for one so young, making him seem weird, even for Harry, but now the mannerisms seemed that of an eccentric old man. It made a lot more sense now for when they first got here, Albus had popped a candy into his mouth and listed around fifty of them just to get passed the gates of Hogwarts and once inside, the long trek was like a tour and a history lesson, Albus pointed out every little thing and started long stories with "I remember when…" and getting lost in the stories as if getting lost in the far away past. Especially when he asked what Albus does and Albus just flippantly said, "I am the headmaster of this school, have been for more than 67 years!" Yes, the age made a lot of things clearer.

He was ripped away from his thoughts when Albus started to talk.

"Harry, you are suffering injuries yes?" at Harry's nod he continued, " I would like a few of my employees to look over you and heal you alright?" with another nod, the headmaster gave one of his own and clasped his hands together. "Great!" turning around, he called out. "Severus! Poppy!"

At the call of the headmaster, a short heavy set women with carrot colored hair came out, in a long dress and a little nurses hat, looking like she came straight from the hospital camps of world war one, the clothing was so old. "Albus, no need to yell! Now, where is young Harry?" she looked at Harry for a moment then turned around once again, "Severus! Get over here!" Harry looked over her shoulder to look at the other adult, slightly scared about the loud woman in front of him.

Standing at the frame of the hallway, leaning was a tall dark haired man dressed in a black dress like thing, silver buttons running down. He was reminded of the telly, and of one of the programs on it that always started with "It was simple, he was tall, dark, and mysterious. I fell in love." He honestly didn't see it. But he was curious about the man; he had a hooked nose and long fingers and a scowl on his face. The man was different from anyone he had met so far.

"Albus, why is he here? Did he scrape his knee playing and you need us to heal him? Why not just bother Poppy and not me?" the man, Severus sneered at him while addressing the headmaster.

"Now Severus" warned the headmaster. The man continued to sneer.

Harry looked over the man and gave a sneer of his own. Only Poppy and Albus noticed that the two sneers were exactly the same.

"Yes, I have a scrapped knee, not to mention malnourishment and broken bones. So, if all I need is Poppy, then are you here to get your arse checked out?" the man looked at him for a moment, obviously thrown off.

"I beg your pardon?" still sneering, the man took a step forward.

"A stick up there isn't healthy, once it's out then we can talk, it's probably making you act like a git." The two glared at each other, but both couldn't help but be impressed at one another. Neither noticed Poppy nor Albus stifling laughter at the two, they were so alike thought Albus and Poppy.

"Enough, Severus you are to provide the potions for what Poppy finds. No complaining." Severus just gave a final sneer than went against a wall, waiting for Poppy's verdict.

She went over to Harry, and once she bent down to his size, she began to explain what was going to happen.

"I'm going to run a few tests, wave my wand about and speak strangely, all right?" Harry bit back a sarcastic comment knowing she was just being nice, and forced himself to smile back.

Poppy waved her wand, a soft green light emitting from the tip, as she moved it up and down, sideways and zigzag all the while chanting in Latin.

"Oh, my." Her face grew sad and worried; wrinkles previously hidden began to show. "Albus you left him with them?" the headmaster nodded, refusing to speak.

"Ah, so what is plaguing the famous Harry Potter Poppy? A broken arm? I assure you every child breaks a bone once." The drawl came from Severus, his voice highly annoyed.

"Severus Snape! You shall be nice to this boy and get over your hatred of James right now! If only for this poor boy!" Harry flinched. He hated being pitied, and that was exactly the carrot head woman was doing.

"This child has been beaten harshly with metal and leather and the scaring is old, the blood near the scaring is still fresh though, and if I had to guess how old the wounds went I would say the oldest are around five years old. He has suffered many broken bones and blood loss, none were treated, he healed them on his own if the uneven bone and mends are telling me the truth. He has had a very hard life, you know we scan the brain for traumatizing events, it came back normal colors and black for abuse but also faintly red, meaning he was scared for his life at least once. The boy is very malnourished, in fact, if my scans are correct, he should already be dead! His magic is the only thing keeping him alive. Now you treat him right now, or I will personally hand you over to the dark lord, I also will make you treat all the kids for a whole month." The Mediwitch was fuming, wanting nothing more than to kill those muggles who dared to hurt the boy. No wonder he was so much like Severus!

Severus was shocked, the boy has been through so much, had a past much like his own. He didn't feel sad or pity the boy, but his tolerance of the boy went up, and if he was completely honest, he felt a little bit of pride that the mere boy could out live and get away from full-grown muggles. It was odd feelings to have, but he didn't deny their existence.

Harry was standing; watching the concealed emotions wash over Severus' face when he started to feel faint and his eyes became heavy.

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><p>Albus watched as Harry swayed and his eyes became heavy, continuously falling, while the boy fought off exhaustion, snapping his eyelids up, fighting to stay awake. He watched how the young boy looked at Severus, watching the hidden emotions that very few could see on the potions master's face. The boy was very perceptive and he knew the boy's father would be proud that he was so sharp.<p>

Suddenly Harry toppled over, and Albus quickly moved to stop the boy from hitting the ground. Fear took over him, without thinking, he willed his magic to diagnose Harry, afraid that it was because of the lack of food. He swore that he was going to get the kid something to eat when he woke up.

Done with the impromptu check up, he breathed a sigh of relief when it became clear to him that the boy was just tired. He returned his attention to the two other adults in the room noticing the concern on Poppy's face and the sneer on Severus' face, wands ready just in case. He let a smile slip onto his face.

"He's tired, he had a long day. Poppy, I'll send him down in the morning so you can heal him, Severus, is their anything you can give him right now that won't interfere with the healing process tomorrow?" he watched as Severus stiffly nodded and handed over a green bottle.

"He showed have half of that before you leave him and when he wakes up before seeing Poppy, it will help with the bruises and scaring."

"Very well my boy, thank you both. Now please, can you see yourselves out? I have to put him in the guest room." He didn't move until he heard the door close.

Sighing, he levitated the sleeping boy up the stairs and into the guest room across from his room. Changing the huge clothes into soft pajamas, he pulled the covers up and tucking Harry in, Harry quickly moving until he was comfortable. He stayed running his hand over the messy locks after Harry settled, lost in thought.

He felt heat coming towards him and soon his fiery companion was hopping on the bed looking curiously at Harry.

"_Are you happy human? He is here with you, no matter the circumstances the chick is here to stay." _Albus heard his friend's voice in his head. He glanced at Fawkes meeting the phoenix's eyes before going back to Harry's sleeping face.

"I am happy old friend but I wish it was when he was eleven and being schooled here, loving it here but wanting to go home, to a nice safe family…I asked to much of magic. Those muggles…I wish Lily told me about them, I let the boy down." remorse gripped his heart.

The bird quietly watched his friend, knowing it was forgotten.

"Can you ever forgive me? My dear child, my dear Keyon. That's what your father wanted to call you, Keyon, it means guiding or leading. Did the muggles ever tell you anything that was true? They loved you and wanted the world to be open to you…" A tear trickled down his face and he quickly wiped it away, and got up, quickly exiting the room. With one more look, he left Fawkes with Harry.

He didn't go to his room; instead he went down the hall until he reached his clothes room, which held his most precious memories. By the time he went to bed a bottle of tequila was empty.

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><p>He gained awareness in stages, first he heard the chirping of a bird and then he felt the warm sun against his skin and finally, he cracked an eye, gaining sight. Harry sighed, dismayed at having to get out of the warm comfy bed. Moving from his side to his back, he bowed his back, his stomach lifted in the air until he felt several cracks in his lower back. Feeling ready for the day, he got up and quickly noticed he was no longer wearing Dudley's old castoffs but instead soft purple pajamas that fit just right. he sat there thinking about the dream that haunted him.<p>

The dream was the same one he had every night. And like every night he only remembered auburn hair, a soft male voice humming and black and green. It always started out nice but then the black became long hair, green became eyes and a bright light and then one word. He could never remember the word, but he knew it was a name. It was at that point that Harry always started to cry, the voice was deep and held so much love, and then everything was swallowed by a green light once again. He would always feel empty and left thinking why couldn't it be his name that was cooed so beautifully? And as always when it was over, he was left there by himself until a bright light would come and consume him.

Sighing, Harry came back to reality. He shook the dream out of his thoughts, pushing it back to that dark place in his mind. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the wet tracks from his late night tears. He felt so weak, so alone and he hated it.

Rolling his shoulders he opened the door and stepped onto the stairs he waited as they moved, wanting to be at the first floor. Repressing a shiver at the cold stone stairs, happily he walked onto the carpet of the living room, pleased at the soft carpet between his toes instead of the cold cement under his feet.

"My child, you need shoes! And socks! I'm sorry that I forgot, oh and your clothes!" looking at the completely awake Albus, he groaned, hating mornings while his companion seemed to love them.

"Great." He muttered under his breath. He looked back up and watched Albus move his wand around, no doubt turning his pajamas back and giving him shoes. He was proven right when his feet were covered in tennis shoes and his clothes still fit but were now shorts and a light blue tee.

"Alright!" Albus clapped his hands together, "Now let us be off to the great hall for breakfast." Nodding, Harry followed Albus out the door and the spinning tilt a whirl stairs and off down the hallways, the portraits now waking up and the armor moving as if it had just woken up from a bad and awkward sleep, moving around, the helmet going all the way around, the body bending in odd angles as if to get kinks out.

Soon they were at giant doors, and Albus pushed his hands in front of him then flung them to the side like he was pushing the doors open, and much like the action implied, the great doors swung open and they quickly walked in, the giant room hosting five long tables, only one of them in use.

Harry walked in slowly, watching the ceiling, the bright blue morning where there would normally be wood or some type of roof but it looked to be open. Maybe he judged before seeing it all…he felt excitement well inside of him, he was magical, he could do things like this and Hogwarts would show him many things. He felt the need to know more further his excitement and he started to walk once again, moving faster, wanting to ask as many questions possible.

He followed Albus to the only table in use. "Come along now, everyone wishes to meet you." he nodded his head and walked up to the table and felt awkward.

He had no idea where to sit, all the adults seemed so comfortable where they sat and there was only one chair open, no doubt for Albus, and they would probably stick him on the end, far away from the only one he knew he could trust.

"My child, come over here and sit next to me and Hagrid." Albus was at the open chair and with a clap of his hands, another chair came up from the stone floor and every chair automatically moved down some to make room for the new chair. Happy, Harry hurried over and sat down.

Once seated he started look at the other people at the table, starting with the person next to him, a huge man with long thick brown hair and beard, both were frizzy and made the man seem scary but his kind brown eyes told the truth about the huge man.

" 'Ello 'ere 'arry, like 'e said my name's Hagrid," The 'h' was heavily pronounced like he had to force himself to make that noise instead of the sound coming easily like it did to most. "I'm 'alf giant!" Hagrid's chest puffed out in pride, and his eyes twinkled for a second like Albus'. Nodding, Harry couldn't help but smile, the man just reminded Harry of an oversized puppy.

"Now Harry, Hagrid teaches Care of Magical Creatures, I must say the students love his class. Now across from you is our Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall," Harry looked at the professor, she had a high tight bun, her gray hair still had some sandy strands, her face had wrinkles and her dull blue eyes were happy and she gave a small nod and a stern "Hello Mr. Potter." Albus was still talking and not wanting to be rude he focused on what Albus was saying. "And next to her is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Lorenthell and further down is our Charms teacher-" Harry ignored what Albus was saying, he was to shocked at what he was seeing. The man seemed to be glowing, a soft white light emitting from his skin. Not wanting to be so rude as to just stare, he quickly thought up a question to ask the professor. "Can I call you Renth instead?" He interrupted Albus but he didn't care, he was too busy looking at the man sitting next to the Transfiguration Professor, trying to act like it was a real question and not a blind fumble, it was the first thing that came to him. Was it wrong that he felt like a dork? bitting on his bottom lip, he focused on the man and not his stupid attempt at a question.

Lorenthell had wavy honey brown hair, gold eyes and when the light hit them just right, silver specks were in his eyes. His skin was a nice golden color.

Chuckling, the glowing man nodded a 'yes'. "Nice to meet you Hardry" Lorenthell spoke for the first time, a heavy accent that made his name sound odd, a soft 'd' was pronounced. He was relieved when Albus just started up once again with introductions.

"And last but not least is Hogwart's caretaker, Argus Filch." Filch was balding but the hair he had was long and a washed out brown color. His face was twisted and by no means could the man be considered handsome. He had beady black eyes and a small hunched frame. When Filch sneered at Harry, he just smiled, not wanting to get on the bad side of anyone, first impressions were very important, if someone believed you were a nice sweet boy they would have blind eyes and deaf ears to your wrong doings.

He saw the caretaker's eyes widen, no doubt not expecting something more hostile than a smile. He watched as the caretaker changed in front of him, the sneer and tension lessened and grudging tolerance replaced open hostility. Satisfied, Harry turned to a short man he didn't remember the name of. He was trying to remember the name when Albus saved him the trouble by sending him down to Poppy to get treated.

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><p>He spent hours down in the white infirmary, smelling the fumes of healing potions and tasting quite a few of the horrible things. He felt aches and pains for hours, his bones being reset, having to be broken again so they would heal correctly. By the time everything was over, he never wanted to get even a sniffle again. Sighing, Harry exited the infirmary and walked straight into Severus.<p>

Great.

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><p>again sorry for being late, but review as always. and sorry it's short<p> 


	3. almost the actual story

AN: this chapter is going to be short, this is just a bridge chapter that connects the story together which really starts next chapter. Sorry if you don't like the fact that it is short. I think you can guess what Albus has been hiding from Harry, I made it kinds obvious. Next chapter, The story begins! as always, Review please.

**this is parseltongue **

_this is written words_

_**this is written parseltongue**_

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><p>TIME SKIP Harry has just started his 3rd year, 2 weeks into school<p>

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><p>Harry had changed over the years, once when he had trusted no one at all, now he had many who could say they held his trust. He trusted the Hogwarts staff but he was only close to a select few. Albus, Severus, Fawkes, and Minnie.<p>

The years had passed and the small seven year old had turned into a healthy 13 year-old boy who was more than content in the house of lions. And it was so on Sunday evening that Harry sat down for dinner next to his best friends Dean and Ron that an owl came swooping in, passing over the heads of the other students, only to dive straight towards Harry, carrying a rather large package on the thin leg.

Settling right before his plate, he waved a hand towards his food, letting the owl know it could eat a few bits as a reward for a job well done. Wile the owl was picking at some of his fish, Harry untied the package and read the front; well aware of the eyes staring at him.

_To My Heir._

Harry turned the package over, looking for a name. Finding none, he carefully opened the top of the sealed package and took a piece of paper out. Unfolding it, he read the contents of the letter.

_My Heir,_

_You do not know me and for now that will have to do. This letter should be presented to you around one and a half months after your 13__th__ birthday for the 70__th__ anniversary of my defeat. All shall be revealed with time._

_It is about this time where a tradition is held in a young Heir's life. It is the time of Leo, where one learns everything about their duties by learning about their family. Along with this letter I have left the first two journals of our ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. If your 'mother' is not hiding, you should have already or soon will get the journals of Gryffindor._

_I have high expectations. Do not let that little whelp of a boy, Riddle get the best of you my heir. I shall be sending along books every two week and I expect you to finish the books by a week and a half. Do not disappoint me._

There was no signed name, no way to identify who the sender was. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts overwhelm him.

What did this mean? Were his parents alive? Who actually were his parents? Was he actually an heir of Slytherin? Questions floated in his head, darker and darker the sea of doubt he was swimming in grew.

"Hey mate, what's wrong?" He was aware of Ron speaking to him, he knew his friend asked a question but it how is he supposed to answer it when he didn't even know what it was that was wrong, he couldn't narrow it down to just one thing.

"Hey, is it this package? Wonder what it is…" His friend moved forward, extending an arm to grab the package.

No, he couldn't let this happen. What if he was the heir of a dark family? What would his friends think of him then? he knew for a fact that some of the Gryffindors still weren't over the fact he could speak parseltongue. In fact he could still feel their slightly hateful glares burning into his back right now.

Understanding what he felt he must do, he reached out and swatted at Ron's hands and snatched up the books from the table and abruptly stood up and half walked, half ran outside the great hall.

Once he left the great hall and the doors were closed once again, he broke out into a full run, almost running over the few who walked the halls. Calling out sorry to every person he knocked into, he clumsily made his way back to Gryffindor tower where he was faced with a too cheerful portrait.

"Afternoon love, forget your textbooks?" the portrait said happily.

"Fortuna Major." He muttered bitterly, he was having worse luck than usual, not greater. Stupid password.

"Well!" Huffed the portrait but she moved all the same.

Once inside the room, he quickly made his way through the common room and up the stairs leading towards the boy's dormitories. Flinging the door open, he rushed to his bed, flung himself on it, closed the red curtains surrounding his bed and buried his face into the covers.

* * *

><p>(Around midnight, same day)<p>

He had been sitting here, curled up in a little ball debating back and forth, the two books innocently stacked in front of him. Sending a glare towards the books, he went over the pros and cons of opening up one of the books.

There were more cons than pros, that he was sure of, but the burning need he felt to prove that he belonged in this magical world, in a way other than his title as boy-who-lived. He wanted to find proof that this world would not abandon him in anyway, not like the muggle.

It was a fear he had for a long time, the muggle world made up of humans, of normal humans without magic. He had once thought that he belonged there but then he turned eleven. He was taken in to the magical world of witchcraft and wizardry with open arms, but even now he felt out of place like he didn't belong and it scared him. This world was so unlike the one he had come from and it still awed him to this day and he loved it with all his heart, but then he would start thinking, it could disappear from him forever, they had discarded him as a baby and had done fine for eleven years, what would happen if he could manage to keep Voldemort dead? Would he be thrown back into a new and scarier world?

If he read the books, learned all he could like the person wanted him to, he could stay, could have someone stand up for him and say he belonged in this world just like any other magic wielding person.

His mind wasn't one hundred percent made up, but he was driven by his fear.

Tentatively, he reached out and picked up the leather bound book. Opening to the title page, he tried to make out the flashing letters that were changing from squiggles to English and back.

_**Salazar Slytherin**_

_**This journal is all about where my bloodline hails from and how far back the magic goes, along the names and changes of my family to its present day name of Slytherin.**_

Or at least that was what he could roughly understand, not being able to completely comprehend the old English.

Flipping the page, he tightened his grip on the journal and began to read.


End file.
